


Sweet Vinegar

by Julibean19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Derek Needs Therapy, Isolation, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Pack Feels, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Puppy Piles, Rape, Recluse Derek, Suicidal Thoughts, The following in nightmares, Torture, Violence, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19/pseuds/Julibean19
Summary: "By design, the cottage only had room for one.  That should have been enough of a hint.  He wanted to be left alone.  He needed to be left alone.  It was imperative that the Betas stay far away from him, for their own safety.  And Stiles… Stiles needed to stay away more than anyone else.  The man was so fragile compared to the others.  Derek knew Stiles would punch him for ever suggesting it, but he was so terribly nervous whenever Stiles was around.  One little slip.  That’s all it would take.  With the flick of a claw, Derek could end the human’s life for good.  His bright, spectacular light would be snuffed out, just like that, never to shine again.  Derek couldn’t stand to let that happen.  Stiles was good.  Derek ruined everything he touched.  There was no room in his life for good things."After the events of season 3a, Derek becomes a recluse, locking himself away from the pack.  Suffering from severe PTSD, Derek attempts to cope with his symptoms alone.  He refuses to let anyone in, until a certain someone comes along.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewizardofgays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thewizardofgays).



> Written for the Eternal Sterek Secret Santa 2016 for giftee thewizardofgays, who prompted, "an accurate representation of PTSD/depression in Derek (or Stiles, I guess. It's Santa's call.) With a little misunderstandings and pack/family feels (with the original pack i.e. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are alive)."
> 
> That was a challenging prompt, and I hope I did it justice. I don't think I managed to fit in any misunderstandings. I didn't want to be a complete downer for Christmas, so I hope the ending makes up for everything else! Happy Holidays, and enjoy!
> 
> Huge hugs and thanks to my trusty beta, [Captainvonchan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/captainvonchan/pseuds/captainvonchan) who managed to work with all of my Christmas deadlines, and also thanks to [OceansandSpace](http://iamadeepseacreature.tumblr.com/) for pre-reading for me!

The light was dim in the loft that night.  It had an almost blue tinge to it.  Even though he was hurting, Derek smiled through the pain.  He thought Jennifer looked good in blue.  It gave her pale skin a beautiful glow, inky black hair cascading over her shoulders in soft curls.  He didn’t know what was happening.  All he knew was that he was in a lot of pain, and somehow, Jennifer was making him feel better.  She kissed like they were still in high school, sweet, almost coquettish, nothing at all like how Kate kissed, all bite, almost violent.

He could recognize it now for what it was.  Manipulation, coupled with painful indifference toward him.  Jennifer did none of that.  She was breathy and light, with rosy cheeks and a soft smile.  When he leaned in to kiss her, he didn’t fear for his life.  When she put her hands on him, it actually felt like he healed a bit faster.  When she exhaled, he could feel the breath fill his lungs.  

Derek could feel the skin of his abdomen slowly knitting itself back together.  He smiled.  This was how it should be.  Derek had never had someone take care of him when he was hurt before, not since his family was alive.  He sighed into her mouth, letting his body weight carry her backward and down onto the bed.  

Suddenly, the room felt cold.  Derek winced as the air bit into his wound, stinging sharply.  He drew back, eyes closed, hissing through his teeth, and waited for it to pass.  It didn’t.  Derek’s eyes snapped open and his face soured.  Where Jennifer’s sweet smile had been just a few seconds before was now a starkly pale, white face, slashed beyond all recognition.  Derek recoiled, but the monster’s sharp claws had already dug into his side, ripping at the edges of his wound, reaching inside his body.  

Reacting instinctively, Derek shifted, letting his claws escape his fingertips and his fangs drop into his dry mouth.  He struggled to bite the monster, but was held back by its strength and the pain of the claws pushing into his abdomen, tearing out his insides.  His jaws snapped ineffectually, a scant inch away from the monster’s putrid face, but unable to reach it.  

Finally finding the strength to fight back, Derek wrapped his fingers around the monster’s throat and squeezed, letting his claws break the wan, slimy skin.  He could feel the monster’s breath coming in shorter gasps, and his lips twisted into a smirk in response.  Knowing the wretched thing’s end was near, Derek squeezed harder, only satisfied when he felt the monster’s trachea collapse under his palm, quickly followed by the loud snap of its neck breaking.  

Derek kept squeezing.  He didn’t want to stop.  Jennifer had never loved him.  She had used him just like everyone else had.  Kate, Gerard, even Scott, had all tried to use his body without his consent.  He couldn’t take it anymore.  He didn’t just want to feel the vertebra turn to dust under his hand, he wanted the foul creature’s head to roll.  Jennifer had played him.  He had fallen for those mauve lips and those big doe eyes like a lovesick puppy.  

The eyes had really done it.  Even lifeless and dull, the doe-like shape still remained.  They shifted under his gaze into an all too familiar honey brown.  He flinched back, pulling his hand away from the monster’s throat when he realized that the windpipe he was crushing wasn’t Jennifer’s at all.  It was Stiles’.  

Stiles, who had gone to sleep beside him, like he always did, all heavy breathing and flailing limbs.  He didn’t have a chance of fighting back, wouldn’t even have seen Derek coming.  Who would expect their husband to strangle them in their sleep?  

Derek had been pulled from the nightmare too late.  There were dark, finger-shaped bruises along Stiles’ throat.  Derek’s fingers fumbled, fear-stricken as he felt Stiles’ neck for a pulse, finding nothing.

“Oh please,” he whimpered, leaning his head down against Stiles’ lips, praying he had missed the sound of a breath escaping his lungs.  “Stiles, baby, no.  Stiles?” he cried louder.  

Derek pulled Stiles’ shoulders, tugging the lifeless body of his husband against his chest, wondering if the bite would take, if it could bring him back.  He laid Stiles down on the bed again, running his thumbs across his pale, freckled cheeks.  He checked for a pulse again.  Nothing.  Derek laid his head down across Stiles’ chest and still, he heard nothing.  

He had done this.  He had killed the only good thing in his life, the only person that had ever cared for him above themselves.  The only one who had never used him for their own twisted purposes.  Stiles, who had protected him, literally carried Derek’s weight upon his shoulders.  Stiles, who had shown him how to love again, how to love in the first place.  He fought with himself, willing his fangs to drop into his mouth, willing to try anything for even the slightest chance that Stiles might come back to him.

But deep down, he knew it was too late.  Derek cried, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he wailed, probably loud enough to wake the neighbors.  Good, he thought.  Let them come.  Let them come and see what he had done.  He wanted to be taken to jail, to never see the sun again, to die.  He would never forgive himself.  If Stiles was gone, there was no point in going on.  He would end it himself if no one else would do it for him.  Maybe Boyd.  Derek thought, almost hoped.  Maybe Boyd would put him out of his misery.  He could be the new Alpha.  Derek wouldn’t have to worry about him then.  He wouldn’t have to worry about any of them.

Derek could feel his tears soaking the thin white tee Stiles had worn to bed.  He struggled, but finally found the will to push himself off the mattress, off of his mate’s body, which was still blissfully warm.  He wanted to look at Stiles.  He wanted to look at that face for as long as the universe would let him.  Derek knew someone would check on them eventually, would take Stiles away from him, and he had to keep looking until then.  He would never get enough of that face.  Derek pushed back until he was hovering over Stiles’ face, mouths only a few inches apart, and stared his fill.

His whole body jerked.  It was violent, and harsh, and felt like it ripped Derek’s shoulders out of their sockets.  He woke up alone.  He always woke up alone.  In truth, he hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since Jennifer.  Pulling his claws from the pillow he had caught in his grasp, he searched the bed for blood, but there was nothing there.  Derek stood up beside the bed and checked the sheets, but nothing was amiss, apart from the feathers that slowly fell like dust motes all around him.  

It had felt so real.  He had felt Stiles’ neck break under his hands, had felt the muscles of his throat contract as Stiles struggled for breath.  Derek squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the memory of the finger-shaped bruises that he had pushed into Stiles’ skin.  His breath caught in his throat.  His mouth felt wet, and yet he was still gasping for air.  Before he even knew what was happening, his stomach contracted sharply and he doubled over, vomiting all over his sweat-soaked sheets.  

Derek waited until his body felt empty before he moved away from the mattress.  He left the small bedroom and entered the main room of his tiny cottage, heading for the efficiency kitchen in the corner.  Grabbing his one glass off the counter, he filled it with water from the tap and sipped it slowly, waiting for his stomach to settle.  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he reached for a bottle from under the sink, gathered up his soiled sheets, and went to the bathroom.  

Derek didn’t own a washing machine.  He didn’t really own much in the appliance department.  After the Alpha Pack and the Darach left town, Derek was more at loose ends than ever before.  With all the excitement, he hadn’t really let Laura’s loss hit him fully, and now that it had, his nightmares of the fire were back in full force.  He had uninstalled the stove in his cottage as a precaution.  Every night, he made sure to unplug everything else before he got into bed.  With no washer or dryer, Derek filled the bathtub with hot water and poured a cup of white vinegar in before adding his sheets.  

He sat there, on the cracked tile floor, rubbing at the sheets until they were clean.  Finally feeling the weight of another night without sleep, Derek leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.  The cold porcelain soothed the ache in his head, but sleep didn’t come.  Instead, the scent of the vinegar brought up even more old memories.  This time, good ones, but somehow the good memories were even more painful than the bad ones.  

His mother hadn’t allowed any chemicals in the house, using natural cleaners whenever possible, as they were easier on the werewolf senses.  The sour scent reminded him of not only the way his mother had wiped down the butcher block counter in the kitchen, but of family BBQs.  His father had a German potato salad recipe that he used to fight with his siblings over.  The vinegar soaked bacon pieces that stuck to the inside of the pot were the best part.  He sighed heavily, letting the scent seep into his pores as he waited for his stomach to settle.  

Leaving the sheets to soak, Derek pulled himself up off the floor to start his usual morning routine.  He stripped out of his sweaty shirt and went for a run in the woods.  Derek sprinted through the trees and underbrush until his lungs burned with the strain.  He willed his mind to stop racing, to stop flashing back to the nightmare, but it was no use.  It never worked, and he didn’t know why he bothered.  

Next would be returning to his cottage to collect his groceries from where they were delivered to his back porch every three days.  Derek didn’t keep anything that needed to be cooked, so it was mostly yogurt, protein shakes, and fruits and vegetables.  He had realized pretty early on that if he filled his refrigerator with bottled water, it would keep his food cold enough that he could unplug the fridge when he went to sleep.  Visions of the electricity shorting out and starting a fire in his cottage kept him up several nights a week.  As terrible as they were, Derek would have preferred flames to the nightmare he just had.

Losing out on the protein he used to get from meat, Derek was much thinner than he had been before, the daily running and other exercises keeping him at a somewhat worrisome weight.  Thankfully, there was no one around to see how knobby his spine had gotten.  He collected the grocery bags from the porch and arranged everything in the fridge.  After taking a few minutes to drink a protein shake, he rinsed out his sheets and hung them up on the line to dry, inhaling the scent of vinegar as he did so.  He wished it did more to settle him.  

Since Derek still had enough insurance money to support himself and probably several other people, there was no need for him to work.  He spent most of his days reading, sitting on the lone armchair in the nearly bare living room.  Derek only bothered to plug his router in once a day to order essentials online before unplugging it again.  He read by the light of a shabby lamp and did his best to sink into the story and forget about the horrors he had seen in his sleep.  

It had taken only a few days of unanswered texts and missed calls before the pack resorted to turning up at his door.  To Derek’s chagrin, it had taken several months of worried whispers and threats to break down his door before the Betas stopped showing up.  Stiles and Lydia had been the only two to go away to college, and he was lucky that they had.  If either of them had been within driving distance of Derek’s cottage, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have managed to fight them off.  Lydia could still cow him with a look, and Stiles… he didn’t even want to think about all the things he would do for Stiles if he asked.

The lanky, spastic kid had crept up under his skin before Derek even realized what had happened.  No matter what was going on in his life, or what kind of supernatural threats the pack was up against, Stiles was always just… there.  He never wavered.  If there was danger, Stiles was there, jumping right in front of it for Derek.  The wolf hadn’t felt that kind of devotion since his family was alive, and it absolutely terrified him.  

On the one hand, he was desperate for some sort of companionship, and he very much wanted Stiles as his companion, but on the other hand, he could not ignore his nightmares.  Stiles deserved to enjoy his college experience, not to be choked to death in his sleep.  Everyone who had ever cared for Derek had died a gruesome death.  There was no way he would allow Stiles to join their ranks.  

He was fine, really he was.  The nightmares were manageable, with the help of the internet, he could provide for himself just fine, and there was no one around for him to hurt.  No one else needed to get wrapped up in the quagmire of Derek’s emotional state.  It was a simple, quiet existence, which unfortunately for Derek meant it was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.  

 

* * *

 

Boyd came first.  Really, they were smart to send Boyd.  Derek could almost tolerate his presence.  He didn’t let the man into the cottage, but he couldn’t stop his Beta from following him out of the house for his daily run.  The sound of Boyd knocking on his door and calling for him had almost scared him out of his routine, but Derek knew if he didn’t get his run in, he wouldn’t sleep at all that night.  The routine was important, it kept Derek from thinking too hard, from doing something he couldn’t take back.  

Pulling off his shirt and charging out of the cottage, Derek ran at top speed, hoping to lose his shadow.  He wished, not for the first time, that he had the ability to fully shift like his mother had.  If he was on paws instead of feet, he was sure he would have been able to get away from Boyd.  Not only that, but he wouldn’t have to think so much.  

Did wolves dream?  Did they have nightmares?  It wouldn’t have made a difference to Derek, he couldn’t shift anyway, he would always be this.  Never changing, never evolving, never anything else but exactly what he was.  

He longed for the quiet.  The animal mind had to be easier, all instinct and pack.  

Pack.  

He had four Betas.  They relied on him, needed him to keep them strong, to make them a family, but when he looked at Boyd, he felt nothing.  He knew there was supposed to be something there, some drive to protect, to nurture and help grow, but it had disappeared.  It was gone with the Darach, gone with his failure against the Alpha Pack.  That moment, when he fell from the second floor of the abandoned warehouse and brought Jennifer home.  That was the moment he lost his pack.  

It all came back to Derek’s choices.  Time and time again, he had made the wrong choice, trusted the wrong person, made the wrong call.  He let the wrong people in.  Kate, Jennifer, Peter, even Scott.  They weren’t the problem, it was him.  

After forty minutes, Derek lost his breath and jogged to a stop.  Boyd was close behind, walking toward him, expression calm and untelling.  The minutes dragged on, neither of them saying anything, until finally, Boyd opened his mouth.  “We miss you, you know,” he said, taking a step closer, but staying out of reaching distance.  

Derek didn’t respond, just leaned over to rest his hands on his knees, chest feeling tighter than his usual run warranted.  His silence was not the deterrent he hoped it would be.  

“We understand what’s going on,” Boyd said, words slow and even, like he was afraid of spooking a rabbit.  “Pack would help.  It would help all of us.”

Derek didn’t say anything back.  He couldn’t.  There was nothing _to_ say.  Boyd was probably right.  Objectively, he knew he needed help, but there was a very good reason he wouldn’t accept it.  He was dangerous.  If the nightmares were anything to go by, the pack wouldn’t survive one day in his presence.  He was all sharp edges and frayed nerves, claws and teeth too close to the surface.  No one was safe, so no one could stay.  

Boyd assured him that he would be back, and Derek shivered at the thought.  He thought they had gotten past this.  By design, the cottage only had room for one.  That should have been enough of a hint.  He wanted to be left alone.  He _needed_ to be left alone.  It was imperative that the Betas stay far away from him, for their own safety.  And Stiles… Stiles needed to stay away more than anyone else.  The man was so fragile compared to the others.  Derek knew Stiles would punch him for ever suggesting it, but he was so terribly nervous whenever Stiles was around.  

One little slip.  That’s all it would take.  With the flick of a claw, Derek could end the human’s life for good.  His bright, spectacular light would be snuffed out, just like that, never to shine again.  Derek couldn’t stand to let that happen.  Stiles was _good_.  Derek ruined everything he touched.  There was no room in his life for good things.

Isaac came next.  

Derek forwent his daily run the day Isaac came to the cottage.  Isaac, his sensitive Beta, the one who hid all of his pain behind sarcastic bravado; Derek couldn’t face him.  When Isaac came to his door, he didn’t even knock, he just sat down with his cheek pressed against the raw, unfinished wood and whined.  The sound sliced through the air of the quiet cottage like a knife.  It was actually painful for Derek to listen to.  It broke his heart to do so, but he opened all the taps in the cottage and used the rushing water to drown out Isaac’s cries.  

Eventually, after the sun went down, Derek could just make out the sound of Isaac pressing his palm against the door, desperately whispering, “please…” before finally taking his leave.

Derek’s throat broke into a sob of its own accord.  His wolf wanted so badly to chase after him, hold him close and snuffle into his throat.  It was the scent of home, of pack, and it called to Derek like a lover, but he had to resist.  This was better for everyone.  He was dangerous.  He had to stay away.

Disrupting his daily routine was always a bad idea, but Isaac’s visit did even more to destabilize him.  He was exhausted, and so very hungry, but he knew sleep would be a while off.  The novel he had been reading did nothing to draw his attention or soothe his nerves, so Derek took to the kitchen and fixed himself a salad.  The lettuce felt dry and strange in his mouth, and he struggled to get it all down.  He knew he should eat more, but he just didn’t have the energy to bother.  Finally, he stripped down to his underwear and got into bed, pulling the crisp white sheet over his head, and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

It was the sizzling sound that first woke him.  He jerked awake, only to find that his range of motion was cut off by the wolfsbane soaked ropes that held him tight to the chain link fence.  It was almost easy to ignore the fact that he was suspended off the floor, arms yanked painfully out of their sockets by his own body weight.  The electric current flowing through his body was much more painful.  Teeth clenched together tightly, he stretched his neck back, straining against the fence as wave after wave of hot, bright pain wracked his body.  

After an excruciating twelve minutes, (he was counting), the sizzling noise cut off and the torture abated.  He could still feel aftershocks zinging through his body.  The sensation took all of his focus, meaning he did not notice there was another person in the room until they smacked him across the face, apparently displeased that he hadn’t been listening to them spout abuse.  It took a minute longer, but his body finally found a tolerable level of discomfort and he was able to open his eyes.  

He wished he hadn’t.

Staring back at him, basked in the shadows, was Kate Argent.  

“Finally back with us?” she simpered, stepping forward into the harsh glow of the floodlight.  “I’ve got to say, Derek, I think you’re losing your touch.  It only took 2 amps to knock you out this time.  Getting old?” Kate teased, pacing in front of him with a sly smirk on her face.  

“What is it, Kate?” Derek asked, wishing his voice didn’t sound so hoarse and breathy, “you only go for little boys?  Guess I’m not your type anymore.”

“I must say,” she started, moving close enough to trail a long finger down his chest and through the creases of his abdominal muscles, “you _did_ grow up quite nicely.  I bet you’re bigger everywhere now.  Should we find out for sure?”

Derek cringed, wishing his ankles were free to kick out at her.  As it was, he could only recoil as far as his stomach would concave, and that wasn’t nearly far enough to keep Kate’s hands off him.  

Kate leaned forward and flicked the top button of his jeans open, looking up just long enough to raise her eyebrows at Derek before she pinched the tab of his zipper between two fingers and pulled.  He hadn’t been wearing underwear, so once the zip was undone, he was exposed fully, balls heavy, and dick hard from the increased adrenaline.  Torture did curious things to a person’s body, as he was all too aware.  

“Looks like you’re happy to see me,” she purred, taking him in hand and giving his length a sharp tug.  “You almost look like you’d be able to please a woman with this,” Kate said, pulling a growl from Derek’s throat.  She laughed, “I was getting so sick of faking it for your benefit.  That fire couldn’t have come quick enough.”

Derek howled in anger, but she continued to touch him, stroking now despite his protests.  “Get your fucking murderous hands off of me, you bitch!” Derek shouted in her face, knowing it was futile.  

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” she asked, bending down to lick a hot swipe across the head of his dick.  “You’re getting shy on me now?”

“Fuck you,” Derek ground out, hissing through his teeth when Kate reached over to the generator and turned it up.  She decided that would be the best time to take Derek straight into her throat, firing all of his synapses and completely confusing his body.  He screamed, hoping he might pass out before he truly mortified himself by coming in her mouth.  

It was no use.  He couldn’t physically stop himself, and his orgasm ripped out of his body swiftly and painfully.  Derek squeezed his eyes shut even harder, refusing to let his burning eyes tear.  

Kate opened her mouth, unhappy that Derek wasn’t looking at the fluid she had collected on her tongue.  Getting impatient, she leaned forward and licked a stripe up Derek’s body from navel to chest, matting his body hair with his own release.  Derek still had his eyes shut tight, so she spat the rest in his face, causing him to flinch as flecks of saliva and worse hit his skin.  

“Oh honey,” Kate chided, rubbing at his damp cheek.  “You really couldn’t last longer than that?  I guess you haven’t learned that much after all.  I’m disappointed.”  

Flinging his head to the side, Derek struggled to get out of Kate’s reach, to no avail.  She just brought her other hand up and held him firm, forcing him to look her in the eye.  

“How’s a girl ever going to get any fun out of you if you come like a freight train after a few seconds?”  Grinning wickedly, Kate continued to spew vitriol.  “I had to put up with that for way too long when you were a kid.  You were insufferable, hanging on me all the time, asking me if I liked it, if I’d come, if I loved you.”  She laughed, loud and long at that.  “Loved you?  I didn’t even pick you out.  My father did.  You were a mark, plain and simple.  But you kept babbling, planning our future together, wanting to run away together.  I should have sat on your face.  Maybe that would have shut you up, it would have been more fun for me at least.  What do you say, Derek?  Think we can teach an old dog new tricks?”

“Like I would do anything for you ever again,” Derek growled, wishing his mouth wasn’t so dry.  He’d like to spit right back in the bitch’s face.  It rankled him that after all this time, she could still hurt him, just with her words.  He’d been young and so, so foolish—foolish to a disastrous degree.  There was no taking back what he had done with her, there could be no redemption for Derek.  

“I think you could be persuaded,” Kate said, smiling wickedly and backing away from Derek.  “You’re so pretty when you’re hurt,” she mused, fondling the knob of the generator, eyes never leaving him.  “But I know you can take it.  So it’s losing its appeal.  I’m going to see if I can really make you cry.”

Then she was out of sight, boots clacking on the hard cement as she walked away.  Derek strained his eyes, trying to find her outline beyond the blinding shine of the floodlamp, but it was just too bright.  With a sharp click, even more light filled the room, revealing not only the back wall of the tunnel they were in, but several more figures, trussed up just like he was.  Derek’s eyes flitted between them, not wanting to believe it.  Tied to other sections of fence were Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and, to his horror, Stiles.  

Stiles wasn’t attached to the second generator he saw in the corner, and Derek let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that the human was merely bound and gagged, not in immediate danger like the rest.  Derek set his jaw, angry with himself for not realizing the faint sizzling noise of the electricity was still running even when he wasn’t being tortured.  He hadn’t even heard any of the muffled moans and whimpers coming from his packmates, hadn’t noticed their scents.  

“The gang’s all here,” Kate said, grabbing a controller off the table as she strode back toward them.  “Here’s how this is going to go, Derek,” she said, voice going harsh and cold.  “You’re going to do exactly as I say, or your pack gets shocked.”

A scream tore out of Erica’s throat as Kate demonstrated what she meant.  

“I get it!  You can stop!” Derek shouted at her, but Kate let the current flow for another minute before shutting it off.  

“Just who exactly do you think is in charge here, Sweetie?” she asked, tapping her finger against the dial in her hand.  “You don’t speak, you don’t think, you do as I say, and no one gets hurt.  Well not much,” she grinned, toying with the button of her pants.  

Derek’s blood ran cold.  It was bad enough that she had touched him when the others were in the room, if this went where he was thinking it would, he would vomit, he was sure of it.  

“Don’t worry, Alpha,” Kate soothed, “I know how you feel about the skinny loser.  He won’t want anything to do with you after this.”  She undid her pants and pulled them down, kicking the material away before going for her panties.

Derek locked eyes with Stiles from across the room, pleading with him.   _Don’t look_ , Derek mouthed, not wanting Kate to shock the others again.  Stiles shook his head violently in blatant refusal.  Kate turned the knob again, smirking over her shoulder as she backed up against Derek’s body.  

The last thing Derek saw before he blacked out was Stiles involuntarily squeezing his eyes shut as he was forced to sink into the clench of his captor’s body. 

 

* * *

 

“Derek?” Erica’s voice screamed from the front porch, jerking Derek out of his nightmare.  “Derek I swear to God; you open this door or I will kick it down.”  She sounded really pissed off, not something that made Derek want to jump out of bed and answer the door.  Before he had left the pack to become a recluse, Derek would have steered clear of an angry Erica, but he didn’t really have that option this time.  

Squirming around as the sweat on his sheets began to cool, Derek hopped out of bed and tore the fabric off the mattress, almost ripping the corners in his haste.  He wasn’t going to answer her.  There was nothing she could say that would make him feel better.  He couldn’t protect her, or any of them.  Even in his dreams, they were just tortured right along with him.  It would never be safe for them if he was in their pack.  

So there, decision made.  He wouldn’t answer the door.  He just wished there was some way for Erica to get the message.  

Having not heard any of Derek’s inner monologue, Erica continued to pound on the worn, weathered wood, shaking the door frame.  “Alpha,” she whined, and that was enough to stop Derek in his tracks, halfway through dumping vinegar into the swirling warm water of the bathtub.  “Please come back to us.  Isaac is a mess.  He hasn’t left his room since he came here last.  Boyd’s there with him, but it’s not enough.  He needs _you_.”

Derek fought down a whine of his own.  He wouldn’t let Erica guilt him into coming back.  Isaac, no matter how bad he was feeling right now, was better off.  If Derek were there, it would only be so long before another hunter came after him, and used the pack as leverage.

Not only that, but as Derek was starting to realize, he was ashamed.  He’d been hiding away for so long now.  That wasn’t how an Alpha was supposed to act.  He should have been there for them.  No one wanted a pathetic mess of an Alpha who couldn’t even leave the house.  He was a complete failure.  Laura and his mother would be ashamed of him.  

“Derek, you fucking asshat.  You know we don’t care if you’re fucked up.  We’re all fucked up, each and every one of us, but that doesn’t mean you give up.  That doesn’t mean you turn away from your pack.  When things get tough, you turn _to_ your pack.  You taught us that, you stubborn bastard.”

Derek almost laughed.  He didn’t know how or when he had impressed those pack values on his Betas.  It probably hadn’t been him.  She was probably humoring him.  He didn’t need her pity.

“You wanna play hardball, Derek Hale?” she asked, backing away from the door after giving it one swift, parting kick.  “I’m bringing out the big guns.  You won’t stand a chance.”

Derek didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t wait around to find out.  He pushed himself to carry on with the rest of his morning routine.  As soon as Erica was gone, he hung up his sheets and took to the woods.  After running until he could barely stand, Derek took a shower and made himself a smoothie.  He couldn’t bring himself to finish it.  Everything soured his stomach and made him want to cry.  

He didn’t read that afternoon.  The words blurred together and he found himself staring at the wall more often than not.  When the sun went down, he didn’t turn on any of the lamps.  It had been a cloudy day and the sheets were still damp, so Derek curled up on his bare mattress, clutching a pillow to his chest.  

Derek didn’t remember his dreams that night.  When he woke, his heart was still beating a mile a minute, but at least he wasn’t vomiting or crying.  He wondered if his body had been too exhausted to do any lasting damage.  

Whatever the reason, Derek was thankful for it.  Not having to wash his sheets, Derek found himself opening the vinegar jug and pouring some into a bowl.  He stirred it with one finger, letting the scent permeate the cabin.  It went a long way to soothing his frayed nerves.  Derek inhaled deeply and thought of his mother.

He was pulled out of his memories by a polite knock on the door.  So lost in thought, Derek hadn’t even heard someone walking up.  Inhaling deeply once more, Derek had no doubt as to who it was.  The “big gun” Erica had been threatening him with was none other than Stiles Stilinski, home from college and waiting patiently on his front porch, silently asking to be let in.  

“Hey Derek, it’s me,” he said softly.  Derek could feel his shoulders raise involuntarily as he turned his ear to the door, chasing the sweet sound of Stiles calling his name.  He hadn’t realized how much he had been missing it.  Sure, Stiles had texted and emailed, but Derek hadn’t bothered to listen to any of his messages and he had never even bothered to install Skype.  

Derek deeply regretted that decision all of the sudden.  He could have been listening to Stiles talk him to sleep for months, if the man had been willing to do such a thing.  Derek felt like he might have.  He felt like Stiles might have done anything he asked, and that terrified him. No one should want to be that for Derek.  Love was a dangerous thing.  It always ended in pain and death.  

“I know you’re afraid to leave the house,” Stiles continued, tone still soft and gentle.  “But I thought maybe I’d be able to come in.”  He paused for a moment, and Derek could hear the muffled pat of him laying his palm on the outside of the door.  “Would you let me in, Derek?  Please?”

Frozen, Derek held his breath.  He wanted to.  He really did.  But he wasn’t sure if he dared.  Stiles didn’t push him.  Waiting patiently, Stiles let Derek decide.  

It made all the difference.  

Without realizing he was even moving, his feet brought him to the door.  With a shaking hand on the handle, Derek hesitated.  This close to Stiles, Derek could smell him through the door.  He took a deep pull through his nose and felt himself settle.  Even after all these months, Stiles still smelled the same.  He turned the knob and let the door swing open.

Stiles was inside immediately and before Derek knew it, his arms were full.  Long limbs settled around his waist as Stiles pulled him in close.  Surprising Derek, Stiles bared his throat and brought a hand to the back of Derek’s head, gently guiding the wolf into the crook of his neck.  Derek felt himself start to tear up.  Everything felt too big, too much, too fast.  His knees buckled and he almost fell to the floor, but Stiles was right there to catch him and ease him down to the ground.  

Derek’s vision was blurry and his breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, but Stiles knew what to do.  He was pulled into the man’s embrace until his nose was pressed in tight against the spot behind his ear.  At first, the scent barely registered, Derek was so distraught, but after a few minutes, his breaths began to even out.  He was still sobbing, but at least he was able to breathe through it.

Derek feared the tears would never stop, but Stiles held him fast throughout.  It took nearly a half hour, but slowly, the sobs turned to steady tears, which turned to sniffles, and finally to a dry, dehydrated Derek, wiping at his nose with his sleeve.  

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Stiles said, waiting until Derek was looking at him before continuing.  “I’m just going to get you a glass of water.  Just five seconds, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek whispered, throat feeling thick and tight.  The sink turned on and off quickly.

“There we go,” Stiles said, handing the glass to Derek, who took it with both hands.  “Sip slowly.  You haven’t been eating, have you?” he asked, twisting his lip as he took in the way Derek’s henley hung loosely around his waist.  

“I’ve been eating,” Derek argued, falling into a familiar pattern.

“Not enough,” Stiles countered.  “I just had my arms around you, and I’m pretty sure about 30 percent of you is missing.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grouched between tiny sips of water.  

“Oh, babe,” Stiles said, eyes looking a bit watery.  “You’re not fine.  But that’s okay.  That’s why I’m here.  Not that I wouldn’t be here if you _were_ fine.  I always want to be here.  I just want to help you get better.”

“There’s no better,” Derek said, putting the half empty glass down on the floor next to him.  “There’s only this.  It is what it is.”

“That’s not true,” Stiles said, voice stern, but kind.  “I know it feels that way.  It feels like it will never get better and nothing will help, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at him, rolling his eyes and waving his hand around the small room, gesturing to everything and nothing at the same time.

“Okay, fine,” Stiles said, tossing up his arms.  “It looks pretty bad, but it can get better and it will.  You just can’t do it on your own.  And that’s not a sign of weakness, or anything like that.  I know that’s what you’re thinking.  That you’re too broken to be our Alpha, but that’s completely false.  Everyone needs help sometimes.  Asking for help is the bravest thing you could ever do.”

Derek let those words sink in for a second.  It wasn’t just that he was afraid to ask for help.  He was dangerous.  He was afraid for anyone to be near him.  It wasn’t safe for Stiles to be here, even now.  

“It’s not that,” Derek answered, unsure of what he could say to get Stiles to leave, to stop trying and never come back.  “It’s not safe for you to be here.  It’s not safe for any of you.  Trouble follows me.   _Death_ follows me.”

“If death follows you, then it follows me too,” Stiles countered, not letting Derek get away with anything.  “It followed Jackson, and it definitely follows Boyd and Isaac.  All of our ghosts chase us through this life.  They never go away, but we’re all in this together, okay?  What happens to you happens to us, even if you stay away.  I know you like to think that you can stop us from being pack if you lock yourself away, but we’ll _never_ stop being pack.  Not ever.”  

“I’m getting violent, though,” Derek said, trying to find whatever he could that would convince Stiles it was a terrible idea to be in his cottage.  “I dream about hurting you.  I wake up and I’m squeezing something, hard enough to snap your neck.  It’s _not safe_ for you with me.  I’m telling you the truth.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I think you underestimate my self-defense skills,” Stiles said, smiling wider than Derek thought he had any reason to, given the circumstances.  “And,” he paused dramatically, scooting closer to Derek on the floor, “I think you’ve failed to think about how much better you might sleep if someone else was here.  I could ease your anxiety; make you feel safe… I couldn’t fix everything, but I could at least be there for you.  I could hold you through it, or calm you back down.  Whatever you need.”

“You want to _sleep_ with me?” Derek asked, eyebrows inching into his hairline, which Stiles noticed was far overgrown.

“That’s what you got out of that very thoughtful speech?” Stiles asked, feigning disgust.  “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Hale.”

“But, did you mean it like that?” Derek asked, barely audible over the sound of them both breathing and the wind whipping through the loose boards of the cottage walls.  

“I did,” Stiles said, reaching out for Derek’s hand.  “But I don’t think we’re quite there yet, do you?”

“No, definitely not,” Derek agreed.  He let himself smile as Stiles twined their fingers together.  It sounded so good, to have Stiles with him, every night, breathing deeply beside him, close enough to touch.  It sounded far too good to be true.  “Aren’t you going back to school soon though?”

“I’ve decided to move back, actually,” Stiles said, not meeting Derek’s eye.

“No, Stiles.  You’re not allowed to do that for me,” Derek protested, squeezing the man’s hand.

“Well it’s not just for you,” Stiles said easily, still smiling slightly.  “I didn’t like being so far away from my dad, or the pack.  Jackson needs someone to keep his ego in check and make him question his sexuality… and besides, it just… wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

“You haven’t been having any fun?” Derek asked, wondering why he had never thought that Stiles might not have been okay at school.  

“Not really,” Stiles admitted, playing absentmindedly with Derek’s fingers.  “Classes were harder than I expected and… I missed you.”

“You didn’t date?” Derek asked, afraid to hope.

“I didn’t want anyone but you,” Stiles said, smiling serenely at him.  He made it sound so easy.  Like they could be together without fear, without Stiles getting hurt, or the house burning down to ashes around them.  

Stiles inched closer.  Derek bit his lip.  It looked for a minute like Stiles might kiss him, but the man sat back before moving any further.  Derek was working up to asking him if he’d be staying now, or if he had to go back to school again to move back, when Stiles lunged at him.  It was good that he was caught off guard, because Derek wasn’t sure he would have let Stiles kiss him if he’d had the time to object.  

As it was though, Derek was glad Stiles had kissed him.  He didn’t think he would have ever worked up the nerve to do it himself.  It was quick, and chaste, but Derek felt like it solidified something between them.  A tiny little part of the large ache in his chest seemed to break away.  

“So… that happened,” Stiles said, laughing to himself as he curled into Derek’s side.  

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, feeling his own lips twist into a smile.  “It did.”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Stiles asked, hiding his face in the curve of Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m still not good for you, Stiles,” Derek protested, sighing heavily like it pained him to do so.  “You’re right.  I do need a lot of help, and I’m not sure when I’ll be ready for a relationship.”

“We’re going to get you help,” Stiles said.  “I promise.  I already found a werewolf-friendly therapist, and if you want me to go with you, I will.”  Stiles continued on, barely pausing for breath.  “I know there’s a reason you’ve been keeping yourself holed up in here, so if you don’t want to leave, or let her in, we can Skype or call her together.  Whatever you’re comfortable with.  But I’m going to be there with you, every step of the way.  You don’t have to worry about sex or dating, or any of that stuff.  We will do whatever you need, and I will be there.  I’m not going anywhere, because we’re pack and you’re my Alpha, but also because I love you, and I’ve loved you for a very long time.  It’s not going to go away any time soon.  I promise you.”

Derek gulped.  He hadn’t known he had been longing to hear those words until he heard them come out of Stiles’ mouth.  No one had said that to him since Laura had been alive, and even then, they didn’t usually use the words, more likely to nuzzle at each other to show their affection.  “I—”

“You don’t have to say it back,” Stiles said, cutting him off.  “I know it’s hard to feel anything beyond panic right now.  I don’t expect anything.”

“I’ve always loved you,” Derek said simply, kissing Stiles’ temple.  

They both went silent for a long time, content to feel the warmth of each other’s bodies.  Derek knew he looked terrible.  He should really get up and go to the bathroom, clean the dried tears off his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his spot.  

“I don’t know about you, but that was a long drive from school, and I’m beat,” Stiles said, yawning.  He peeked at Derek’s face, not sure if his next question would be welcome.  “Would you like to take a nap, maybe?”

“I can’t sleep with you here,” Derek said quickly, wincing at how bad that probably sounded.  “I mean, I can’t sleep at all, and I know you say you can defend yourself, but I—” he faltered, not certain what he wanted to say.  “I don’t trust myself, and I can’t hurt you.  I just _can’t_.  It would ruin me, if I ever hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Stiles said again, tears prickling his own eyes when he heard the sheer terror in Derek’s voice.  

“I just…” Derek trailed off, squeezing Stiles’ hand again.  “I can’t risk it.”

“What if we don’t sleep?” Stiles asked, squeezing back.  “What if we just lie down and get comfortable?” Stiles suggested, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s dark hair.  “I’ll stay alert, and you just try to relax.  Maybe we can ease into it?  I don’t want you to be alone.  I can’t leave you like this.”

Derek nodded, rolling his shoulders, pressing himself into Stiles’ warmth.  “I’ll need to get the sheets off the line,” Derek said, remembering they hadn’t been dry enough to put back last night.  

“I’ll get them,” Stiles offered, kissing his forehead before he stood and went outside.  He was back in less than a minute, white sheets bundled up in his arms.  “Bedroom through here?” he asked, gesturing at the only other doorway that wasn’t the kitchen.

“Yes,” Derek said, tensing his muscles as he got to his feet.  He checked himself in the bathroom mirror while Stiles made the bed.  He looked worse than he felt, if that was possible.  Splashing water on his face, he dried himself on the hand towel and shuffled to his bedroom.  

Stiles was there, smoothing down the top sheet like he belonged there, like he had always been there.  He looked comfortable, kicking off his shoes, like he climbed into Derek’s bed for a nap every afternoon.  

“You alright?” Stiles asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.  

“I’ve been having nightmares.  Terrible ones.  I don’t know how much I move or talk or… I may lash out,” Derek said seriously, hesitating at the doorway.  “I have no idea what I actually do when I’m sleeping, but I wake up and things are ruined.”

“Would it help you to know I have some powdered wolfsbane in my pocket?” Stiles asked, hoping that wouldn’t be a trigger for Derek.

“Actually, it does,” Derek said.  “Thank you.”

“I promise I’ll use it if I have to, but I really think it’ll be okay.  And even if it’s not, I won’t leave, okay?”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, hard and serious.  “If I get violent you run far away, and you get the Betas if you need to.  You have to promise me.”

“I promise,” Stiles said, reaching out for Derek’s hand.  “Now come here.”

Derek went.  He walked directly into Stiles’ arms and let the man arrange his limbs until he was comfortable.  Stiles’ head was settled with his ear over Derek’s heart, and he was curled into the wolf’s side, their arms and legs intertwined.  “You comfortable?” he asked, glad that he didn’t have to get up to shut off the light, because there weren’t any lights on.  In fact, there wasn’t even a lamp in Derek’s bedroom.  

“I think so,” Derek said, honestly not sure.  “I’m not going to sleep anyway,” he said, more as a reminder to himself than to Stiles.  The last time he’d shared a bed with someone, it had been an experience he’d much rather have forgotten, but this was nice.  Stiles’ scent was soothing and familiar, like a balm against cracked skin.  “You’re warm,” he commented, resting his cheek on Stiles’ hair.  

“So are you,” Stiles said, smiling into his shirt.  “I think I could get used to this.”

It felt like it was still too soon to tell, but Derek was hopeful.  “Me too,” he replied, and waited, silently, until Stiles settled.  The deep even rhythm of his breath was almost like a sound machine.  Unable to fight his exhaustion, Derek drifted off as he imagined Stiles’ breath to be the rising tide, pulled by the moon, just like Derek was.

 

* * *

  

Derek woke up calm for the first time in recent memory.  Stiles was awake beside him, long fingers tangled in Derek’s overgrown hair, slowly combing through it.  It was remarkable.  Maybe Stiles was right after all.  Maybe he would be okay if they stayed together.  He was calm, and he didn’t remember dreaming.  Still, Derek was unwilling to get overly excited about it, sure that Stiles’ presence couldn’t be a cure-all, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to rely on his boyfriend to fix all of his problems.  Even keeping all of that in mind, Derek couldn’t stop himself from feeling hopeful.  For the first time in months, it felt like relief was possible.  With enough help, he could find peace.

“I called for pizza,” Stiles said softly, not breaking the warm, still air of the room.  “You look like you need to eat about 10,000 calories.”

Derek hummed, tucking his nose under Stiles’ chin, nuzzling into the warmth.  

“Have you been eating _anything_?”

Derek groaned, hoping Stiles would drop the topic.  Pizza did sound good, but Derek didn’t need a lecture along with it.

“I looked in your fridge, and I’m pretty sure you’re lucky to be alive,” Stiles said, voice rumbling so sweetly in his throat.  

Derek ducked further down until his lips were pressed against Stiles’ Adam’s apple, close enough to feel the vibration through his lips. “Mmmm,” Derek said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, just happy to be so close to someone.  Erica was right.  He didn’t think he would have opened the door for anyone other than Stiles.  It had been hard enough to let Boyd follow him on his run.  

There was a knock on the door, and Stiles made to answer it.  Derek pulled him back in, unwilling to let the man leave their cocoon of warmth.  “Leave it,” he grumbled, scratching his stubble against Stiles’ throat until the other man hissed.  He didn’t want Stiles to open the door, he was sure if any new air entered their bubble, it would burst.  

“I can’t,” Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Derek’s lips, distracting him enough to be able to pull away.  “I ordered reinforcements along with the pizza,” he said very quickly as he darted from the room.

“What?” Derek called after him.  He didn’t have to wonder for long though, because he could hear Erica’s excited squeal and Jackson’s low drawl from the front room.  He groaned, and rolled over until his back was facing the door.  Pulling the sheet up over his head, Derek hid.

“You really think that’s going to keep me away?” Stiles asked, kneeling on the bed and pulling the sheet away from Derek’s face.

“Had to try,” Derek mumbled, still not sure he was ready to see the rest of the pack.  Stiles should have known better.  It was too much too fast.  He could feel his heart begin to race, and his eyes darted to the window, looking for an escape.  

“They need you,” Stiles said, firm and unyielding.  “I’m letting them in.  I’m sorry, but I have to.  It’s for your own good, and theirs.  You’ll understand why in a minute”

Derek closed his eyes, praying for strength as his bedroom door opened and the Betas filed in.  Isaac was first, and Derek took one look at his face and couldn’t deny him for a second longer.  He flashed his eyes red and patted the mattress beside himself.  Isaac wasted no time.  Within seconds he was kneeling on the bed next to Derek, curls bouncing as he landed on the mattress.  

Derek’s heart broke for him, it really did.  Thankfully, Isaac wasted no time at all and was already burrowing into Derek’s body face first.  Erica and Boyd quickly followed, each pawing at one of Derek’s hands until he cupped their cheeks and pulled them in by their napes.  After a thorough scenting, they laid their heads on his thighs, and clung to Isaac, getting as close as possible to their long lost Alpha.

“Why does it smell like pasta salad in here?” Jackson asked, strolling in with a stack of pizza boxes.  

“It’s potato salad,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“Do you have potato salad in here somewhere?” Stiles called from the kitchen.  “Because I can’t even find plates or napkins.”

“No, I don’t have any,” Derek said, rubbing a scruffy cheek along Isaac’s arm.  “The vinegar smell reminds me of my mom,” he said softly, not sure why he was even bothering to explain himself.  “She used to use it to clean, and my dad used to make this German potato salad.  It just… smelled like home.”

Jackson dropped the pizzas by the door and climbed onto the bed, grabbing two handfuls of sheets and pulling them close to his face.  “They smell like you,” he said, sheepishly, when Derek gave him a confused look.  “And Stiles, and vinegar,” he added, crinkling his nose.

“Well I think you’ll have to get used to one of those things, and it ain’t gonna be the vinegar,” Stiles said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.  He surveyed the scene before him, all four Betas rolling around, scenting Derek and his home, all cooing and purring when they got a touch or a fond look from their Alpha.

“That’s okay,” Erica said, curls obscuring her face from where she was practically burrowed into Derek’s arm pit.  “You make a good pack mom.”

“I’m not your mother,” Stiles said, glaring at them.  “I’m pack, and I’m Derek’s boyfriend, but I’m not your mom, I just want to make that very, very clear.”

“Whatever you say Big Mama,” Boyd said, flashing his white teeth at Stiles.  

“I’m just going to sit over here, in the corner, and eat some pizza,” Stiles said, pulling a box over to him.  “You guys continue to fondle my new man-friend at your leisure.”

“You should come up here,” Derek pleaded, happy that his pack was back with him, but still anxious about how many people were in his cabin.  He felt nervous and twitchy, like something horrible could happen at any time.  He was having a strong urge to yell at everyone and tell them to leave, but he fought it down.  A lot of progress was being made, and he didn’t want an angry outburst to ruin everything.

“And you should really eat something,” Stiles said, holding up a slice of meat covered pizza.  “Please, babe, you need some real food.”

“You call him babe?” Jackson asked, snorting, but he wasn’t fooling anyone, he was currently wrapped tight around one of Derek’s lower legs and didn’t look like he could be easily moved.  

“I don’t think you’re one to talk right now,” Stiles countered, waving a piece of pizza in a circle, gesturing to the puppy pile on the bed.  “You’re the one clinging to apron strings.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Isaac said, defending his pack mate.  “It’s a basic need, like food or water or oxygen.  We were dying without him.”

“I know.  It’s okay,” Stiles said around a mouthful of cheese.  “I was only teasing.”

“You guys think I can get up for a slice of pizza?” Derek asked from beneath the pile.  

“On one condition,” Erica said, peeking her head up.  

“What’s that?” Derek asked as patiently as possible.  

“You let us all stay here tonight,” she said, giving Derek her best pouty face.

Derek hedged, not sure he was ready for such an invasion of his safe space.  He still kind of wanted to smack Stiles for letting them all inside the door.  Their scents were already filling the cabin, and while it felt comfortable now, he worried it might become stifling if they hung around.  

“You let us all stay here forever,” Isaac countered, upping the ante.

“Tonight is fine,” Derek relented, figuring it was as good as he was going to get.  “But here means in the cabin, not in my bed.”

Stiles threw him a saucy wink, and Derek wanted to tell him off, but really, he had no intention of letting the man sleep in the living room with the rest of the Betas.  He smiled back, ducking his head a little to hide his blush.  Derek knew they wouldn’t be doing anything sexual for a long time, but even the thought of Stiles in his bed, his scent permeating his sheets, made his wolf rumble in pleasure.  They had survived a nap, surely that was a good sign, and with the Betas sleeping in the living room, he felt a bit better knowing they would hear anything concerning.

The Betas nodded in agreement, thankful their Alpha wouldn’t be tossing them out in the cold, and soon enough, they were all in a circle around the foot of Derek’s bed, chowing down on the eight pizzas Stiles had ordered.  

“I know you’re not okay,” Isaac said eventually, after passing a round of bottled water to everyone.  “But you will be.  And we’ll help.”

“We just want you to be happy,” Boyd added, clapping Derek on the shoulder.

“And if that means giving you some space while you get yourself sorted out, that’s okay,” Erica said.  Derek appreciated that, he really did.  He wasn’t sure how much family togetherness he would be able to take in one sitting, and it was nice knowing that the Betas wouldn’t give him more than he could handle.

“Just don’t smother me,” Derek said quietly, embarrassed that he needed to put limits on what his pack could and couldn’t expect from him.  

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Jackson said, snorting.  “Stilinski will do enough of that for all of us.”

“You’re just jealous,” Stiles teased, smiling broadly at Derek like he had hung the moon.  Derek wondered if he had the same expression on his face when he was looking at Stiles.  

As the evening wore on, the pack continued to shower Derek with affection.  He did his best to accept it graciously, but it still ate at him a bit.  He had abandoned them and shut them out of his life.  He didn’t deserve all the love he was getting from them.  

Later that night, once the Betas were curled up around each other on the living room rug, Stiles addressed the things Derek hadn’t said aloud.  “They don’t blame you, you know,” he said, turning away when Derek changed into some pajamas.  They were both being courteous.  Normally Derek wouldn’t wear so much clothing.  

Derek didn’t respond, so Stiles just kept on talking.  “I know it’s going to take you some time to get used to having people around again, and if you need to tap out, it’s okay.  If you want me to leave so you can have some time alone, I’ll go, no questions asked.  But I’m not going to let you lock yourself away again.”

“Thanks,” Derek said simply, thoughts still spinning in his head.  He was still nervous about what was to come, the anxiety and self-doubt wasn’t going to go away overnight, but he was a little more confident that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and Stiles was to thank for that.  “I’m glad you knocked on my door today,” he said honestly.  No matter what was to come, he was happy knowing Stiles would be by his side through it all.

“I’m glad you let me in,” Stiles answered, meeting Derek in the middle of the bed for a sweet goodnight kiss.  

**Author's Note:**

> Come [tumble](http://aflailureandamasterpiece.tumblr.com/) with me. Thanks to the ESSS organizers for putting together this great exchange! Happy Holidays to everyone!


End file.
